


Changing Minds

by alynwa



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are two new agents in the New York office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The knock on his front door was familiar and expected.  _Right on time,_ he thought before calling out, “Use your key, Illya, I’ve got my hands full!”

The Russian came in and reset the alarm system before heading into Napoleon’s dining room.  The table’s leaf had been removed, reducing it in size to a circle with six chairs around it.  It was covered with a green felt tablecloth and each chair had a coaster in front of it.  The sideboard held paper plates, napkins, cups and forks.  On the opposite side of the room was Napoleon’s bar complete with two ice buckets, mixers and various bottles of liquor and wine. The five cubic foot refrigerator underneath the counter held several varieties of beer.  He smiled approvingly when he noted the absence of vodka and went to Napoleon’s freezer to retrieve the bottle he knew would be there.  He went to the bar and jammed it into one of the ice buckets and walked back into the kitchen to watch Napoleon who was busily putting the finishing touches on a platter of cold cuts.

“Illya,” he clucked disapprovingly, “that ice is for drinks.  Why are you sticking your vodka in it?”

“Expediency,” came the answer.  “I do not wish to hold up the game constantly going to the freezer to refill my glass.”

Napoleon chuckled.  “Point taken, my friend.”

“What time are April and Mark supposed to be here?  I am starving,” Illya complained as he eyed the tasty – looking meats and cheeses Napoleon had arranged so nicely on an oval platter.  On another platter, there were rolls, rye and wheat bread slices and bowls of mustard and mayonnaise.

“I knew you would be, Tovarisch, so you are more than welcome to fix sandwiches with the cold cuts that are still in the fridge.  There’s potato salad and pickles in there, too.  I expect them anytime now.”

As he happily went about the business of fixing a “snack,” Illya said, “I am starting to like the idea of Poker Night more and more.  Who else is coming?”  He stuck his sandwich in his mouth and took the platters Napoleon held out to him into the dining room.  He grabbed a plate after he put the platters down, put his sandwich on it and took the seat closest to the bar.

“April asked me if she could invite Agents Lozada and Ferraro.  They’re the new transfers from UNCLE South America; the Buenos Aires office.  I’ve heard good things about them, but I don’t know them very well so I thought this would be a good, non – threatening way to get to know them better.” 

“I have to admit, I am surprised that you have invited strangers to your home.  I would never allow someone I did not know into my apartment.”

Napoleon shrugged as he finally finished his preparations and joined Illya in the dining room.  He poured himself a scotch, pointed at the vodka and then poured some into a glass when Illya smiled.  He sat down and slid Illya’s drink to him.  “They’re not exactly _strangers,_ Tovarisch, they’re fellow UNCLE agents.  April has developed a budding friendship with them and I trust her judgment.  She would never have suggested they come here if she felt either one was untrustworthy.”

The intercom buzzed then; it was the doorman alerting Napoleon that his expected guests had arrived and were in the elevator.  A moment later, his doorbell rang.  Ever cautious, Napoleon checked the peephole while the Russian had his hand on the grip of his Walther.  He relaxed when Napoleon nodded and unlocked the door.

Mark and April stood there smiling; behind them, stood New York HQ’s newest Section IIs.  Celia Lozada and Vincenzo Ferraro were Argentineans of Spanish and Italian descent, respectively.  She was five feet seven inches tall and wearing a navy blue pantsuit with low – heeled shoes.  Her hair was pulled back into a rather severe bun.  Her partner was dressed in the usual black suit, white shirt and skinny black tie that hung neatly on his six feet three inch frame. 

“Hello, all.  Come in, come in.  Celia, Vincenzo, welcome to my humble abode!  Make yourselves comfortable.  You remember my partner Illya.”   He helped Celia off with her coat and hung it up in the coat closet and then passed hangers to his other guests.

“Your home is beautiful, Mr. Solo,” Agent Lozada said as she walked farther into the apartment and waved at Illya.

“Thank you and please, call me Napoleon.”

 “It is about time you decided to show up,” Illya huffed in fake annoyance as he waved hello.

Mark laughed as he clapped the smaller man on the shoulder.  “In a hurry to lose your money then, are you?  April love, let’s see if we can accommodate our mate here.  C’mon, boys and girls: Grab your drinks, grab your seats and let’s play cards!  Celia, what don’t you sit next to Illya?  You won’t bite ‘er, will you, mate?”

As the Russian began to shuffle the cards, he replied coolly, “The night is still young.”

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Hours later, Napoleon and Illya sat relaxed and drinking in the living room, the brunet on the couch with his feet up and the blond stretched out in the recliner.  The card party had wound down about an hour earlier.  Illya had helped clean up and had accepted Napoleon’s offer of the guest bedroom rather than making the trek back to the Village.

Napoleon swallowed more of his scotch and looked at the Russian who was enjoying yet another sandwich and helping of potato salad.  _Where does he_ put _it?_   Exhaling loudly, he said, “Well?”

Illya stopped the fork halfway to his mouth.  “Well what?”

“What do you think of Celia and Vincenzo?”

“Ah,” Illya responded.  He took in his last forkful of potato salad, chewed and swallowed before downing what remained in his glass.  “I think that April is correct in her assessment.  They are both very pleasant to be around.  Celia and April seem to have bonded.  It probably helped that between the two of them, they won the most money.  They were both unreadable.”

“I can’t believe I let Celia bluff me out of a pot when she only had a pair of nines!  I had two pair and the way she was betting, I thought she had at least a straight.  Vinnie was much more conservative in his play.  It kind of makes me wonder, when they are in the field, if they are the same way; Celia being a risk – taker and Vinnie being more cautious in his approach.”

“They have been given assignments that were difficult for their level of experience and were successful.  What do their mission reports indicate?”

Napoleon snorted.  “They indicate what they want me to know!  Tovarisch, how many reports have we given the Old Man that omitted actions we took?  If the mission is successful, that’s all that matters.  If one of us gets captured and rescued, Waverly doesn’t need to know the other one risked the mission to do so.  We all do it; Celia and Vinnie are no different.  My concerns as CEA are: Does Celia engage in an inordinate amount of risky behavior and if she does, is she endangering her partner?”

Illya refilled his glass.  “You got all of this from a few hours of playing poker?” he asked incredulously.  “Do you not think you are being overly dramatic?”

“Perhaps you’re right, Partner Mine.  The thought occurred to me that maybe I’m over – thinking this because she is only the second female to graduate Survival School.  One of the reasons she and her partner were transferred to North America is because the culture of machismo in Argentina was affecting her ability to do her job; many of the agents and support staff treated her like an interloper.  She and Vincenzo were in the same class so he is well aware of her abilities and skills, but he couldn’t convince his fellow agents and they mistreated him for standing up for her.”

Illya poured one last drink.  He was getting sleepy and the bed in the guestroom was calling him.  “I think you also relate to them because you did the same thing when I arrived here.  No one trusted me; no one wanted to work with me.  You were the only one to offer a hand in friendship.”  Gliding gracefully out of the chair, he picked up his plate and glass and announced, “I am going to bed.  Napoleon, do not worry.  If she appreciates her partner’s friendship and loyalty half as much as I do, she will not do anything in the field to endanger him.  Good night.”

“G’night, Partner Mine.”  As he watched the Russian head to the kitchen to place his dish and glass in the dishwasher he thought, _I hope you’re right._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The following Monday morning, Napoleon was chairing his monthly Section II meeting.  These meetings, mandatory for all agents not currently on assignment, performed several functions; each, in Napoleon’s mind at least, equally important.  Disseminating information to them about the activities of THRUSH and other smaller, but no less dangerous, factions around the world and UNCLE’s and its allies’ efforts against them was crucial, of course.  Also important was updating his agents about changes in policies and procedures along with introducing them to new technology developed by Section VIII.  He smiled to himself at that last thought.  _It’s more true to say that I let Illya introduce the new technology.  Half the time, he’s had a role in making it a reality._  Lastly, Napoleon wanted to look each of his agents in the eye and gauge his or her readiness for the field. 

He knew that his agents shared the same aversion to the Medical and Mental Health Unit as he and his partner and, like he and Illya, his fellow Section IIs had as little to do with them as possible, sometimes to their own detriment.  Napoleon considered it one of his most important duties to assure himself that he was sending people out on missions who were mentally and physically ready to go.

As he looked around the conference room table he observed each agent as an individual and as part of a team.  His trained eye took in their body language to assess the strength or weakness of the partnership, if there was a hitch or hesitation in someone’s range of motion or a wince from an injury not as healed as UNCLE’s doctors had been led to believe.  _There’s no one here I would feel reluctant to send into the field,_ he thought with satisfaction and more than a hint of pride.  He truly believed he commanded the best enforcement agents in the organization.

“Ladies and gentlemen, unless someone has something he wants to bring to the table, this meeting is adjourned.”  He looked around one last time and when no one raised a hand, he said, “Thank you.  Agents Dancer, Lozada, Slate and Ferraro, please remain.”  They stayed in their seats as the rest of the agents, led by Kuryakin, exited the room.  When the door slid shut, Napoleon stated, “We have a situation brewing that I want you four to handle.  Section IV picked up some chatter that seems to point to some THRUSH related activity along the Texas – Mexico border.  If it’s to be believed, a terrorist group operating in Mexico is trading drugs for weapons to be used to overthrow the Mexican government.”

Mark cleared his throat.  When Napoleon looked his way he asked, “Does Intel have any idea why THRUSH is getting into the drug dealer business?  That doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Excellent question, Mark.  Apparently, THRUSH scientists think they have developed a mind control drug.”

Slate and Dancer groaned simultaneously.  “ _Another_ one?” April asked incredulously.  “Don’t they ever give up?”  

“Look at the bright side, Agent Dancer,” Napoleon answered, “it keeps us employed.  Intel says chatter indicates they want to piggyback their drug onto the heroin they’re getting from the Mexican cartel.  If they can subjugate the Texas junkie population, they will expand to other states.”

Mark shrugged and looked at Agent Ferraro.  “I guess that makes some kind of psychotic sense.  What would you have us do?”

Celia Lozada, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up.  “I assume Vinnie and I are to deploy to Mexico?”

“You assume correctly, Agent Lozada.  You’re heading to Nuevo Laredo, approximately forty miles south of Laredo, Texas.  Your mission will be to find out which cartel is doing business with our dirty bird ‘friends’ and take possession of or destroy their weapons cache before it can be used against the Mexican government.  Mark, April; you two will be heading to Laredo, Texas to find out from whom THRUSH is amassing weapons to give to the cartel and neutralize them plus destroy their supply of drugs before they are distributed to the local addicts.”

“UNCLE is the lead agency on both sides of the border, so when you arrive at your respective locations, you will make yourselves known to the local authorities.  I have been assured that you will receive the utmost level of cooperation.  You will follow standard operating procedures regarding check – ins and status updates.  Are there any questions?”  Nodding at each team member’s head shake, Napoleon said, “Excellent.  You are booked on flights that leave in three hours.  Good luck, people; stay sharp.”

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

The pneumatic door to his office slid open and Illya was slightly shocked to see Napoleon sitting at his desk deep in thought.  “Why are you still here?” he inquired, “It is almost ten.  Surely, you do not expect to hear from either team tonight.  Do you?”

Napoleon barked a short laugh.  “Don’t you think it’s a little bit odd to be questioning me as to why I’m here so late when you’re standing in front of me?  I could ask you the same thing.”

The Russian reached for and donned his jacket.  “And I would tell you that I was working on a new explosive compound with the other scientists.  We’ve gone as far as we can go tonight so it is time to leave.”  He stared at his partner for a few seconds and appeared to reach a decision.  “I wish for company, Napoleon; come have dinner with me at Svetlana’s.  My treat.”

The American stuck his right index finger into his ear.  “My ears must be clogging up; I could have _sworn_ I heard you offer to treat me to dinner!”

Illya gave Napoleon a lopsided grin as he tossed him his coat.  “Are you, what is the expression, looking a gift horse in the mouth?”

Napoleon stood and said, “Not on your life!  Let’s go.”

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Dinner was superb.  Svetlana’s usually closed at eleven, but Illya was a favorite of the owner/chef, so when he and Napoleon walked through the door, she came out of the kitchen to hug the blond and kiss his cheeks like he was a prodigal son.  Happily chattering away in Russian, she led the two men to what was obviously Illya’s regular table; near the kitchen with a clear view of the entrance though the table itself was secluded behind a low wall.  Before heading back into the kitchen, Svetlana planted kisses on both men, smiled and said something to a waiter who promptly brought over a bottle of ice cold vodka and two shot glasses.

Illya spoke up before Napoleon could say anything.  “Tonight, you will drink vodka.  It would insult our hostess if you did not.  Svetlana has told me we do not have to order from the menu; she has prepared a special meal.”  A server came out of the kitchen with a pitcher of a dark red liquid on a tray with two glasses and a three – sectioned plate containing pickled mushrooms and cucumbers along with salmon caviar on buttered toast points.  Illya picked up the pitcher and began to pour.  “This is _kompot;_ it is made with assorted berries, sugar and peppermint leaves boiled in water.  It is very good.”

Napoleon took a sip and agreed, “It _is_ good,” before reaching for a toast point. As he bit into it and tasted the salty _pop_ of the roe on his tongue, it reminded him that he had not eaten for ten hours.  “I think I am going to enjoy this,” he said, more to himself than to his partner.

The appetizers were followed by two large bowls of steaming borscht topped with chopped raw onions and dollops of sour cream.  After that came a platter of Beef Stroganoff surrounded by the best buttered egg noodles Napoleon had ever had.  Between each course, they downed shots of vodka.

“Tovarisch, I don’t think I can eat another bite,” he said as he swallowed the last of his entrée.  “I don’t know when I have had a better meal.”

“Make a little more room, Napoleon.  There is Chocolate Strawberry Cake for dessert with tea and, of course, more vodka.”

Napoleon leaned back in his seat.  “I am both grateful and curious, my friend.  What made you decide to treat me to this outstanding meal?  Not that I don’t appreciate it because I do, very much.  For the lovely Svetlana to close the restaurant and keep the kitchen open just to feed us has been a wonderful treat.  Why would she do that?”

Illya laughed as he poured two more shots of vodka.  The men picked up the glasses, held them aloft as a salute to each other and then downed them in one swallow.  Svetlana came out of the kitchen with two large pieces of cake.  Placing a plate in front of each man, she cupped their faces in her hands and smiled.  Napoleon’s face she patted affectionately and then she leaned in to kiss Illya’s cheek and whisper in his ear.  He turned his face to kiss the palm of her hand before taking it into his two large hands and kissing it again before letting go.  He watched her head back through the door into the kitchen with a warm smile upon his face.

“Svetlana is originally from Kiev though she has lived in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn for a long time.  When I told her I was born in Kiev and have no living relatives, she declared that I must think of her as my _babushka_ and come visit her often like a good and dutiful grandson should.”

“As for you, Napoleon, I wanted you to have dinner with me because…”  He exhaled and looked away for a moment.  “Because I felt like it was something you needed me to do.”  He blushed slightly at that admission.

Confused, Napoleon responded, “Something I needed you to do?  I don’t understand; what are you talking about?”

“I had a… _feeling_ ,” Illya said by way of explanation.  He felt a little silly saying it out loud.

“’A feeling,’” Napoleon repeated.  “You mean a, a premonition?”

Illya finished his cake and tea.  “Forget I said anything; it is nothing.  I am ready to leave.”  He pulled out his wallet and motioned to one of the servers relaxing at the bar.  When he came over, Illya spoke to him in Russian and then slipped a twenty into his shirt pocket and more bills into his hand.  “Let us leave; if we are still here when Vladimir hands her that cash, she will refuse it and then yell at me for five minutes that she does not charge family for dinner.”

Napoleon stood and put his coat on.  “Won’t she be upset that we left without saying goodbye?”

“Maybe, but I do this all the time and she never brings it up when I return, so I think this is a game we play so that she can be paid for her wonderful food and still maintain that I do not have to pay at all.”

Vladimir locked the door behind them.  It was after midnight, but the streets were still fairly busy.  The Russian stepped to the curb and hailed a cab.  When one pulled up, Napoleon said, “You know, it’s a beautiful night and I am so stuffed, I think I’m going to walk home.  It’s not that far.  You take the cab.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Illya hesitated, “Are you sure?”

When the American said, “Yes,” Illya told the driver to wait and pulled Napoleon into a big Russian bear hug.  Shocked at first by the unexpected public display of affection, he tensed and then relaxed into the brotherly embrace and hugged him back.  “The vodka has you feeling very sentimental, I see.  Goodnight, my friend.”

Pulling away, the blond smiled shyly and got into the cab.  “Good night, Napoleon.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Three days later…_

Illya awoke thinking about his dinner with Napoleon and feeling slightly embarrassed that he had confessed to feeling that Napoleon needed to be in his company.  _It was more than that; I felt that he needed to know that I care about him._ He got out of bed and moved to the bathroom to start his day.  While in the shower he thought, _Grandmother used to tell me that I might develop “second sight” because we had Gypsy blood.  I do not believe that, but I have learned to “trust my gut” as the Americans say and my gut told me to let Napoleon have a night of camaraderie; that he needed it.  He probably thought I was insane!_

As he dressed and gulped the cup of coffee his coffeemaker had produced, he decided that he would not mention his gut feeling to his partner again.  He headed off to work and nodded to Agent Del Floria before he entered the last changing room and turned the coat hook to enter the world of UNCLE.

He held out his hand for his badge and after pinning it on, he began to head for the lab, but then he remembered that he had brought his notes to his office and turned to head that way.  When he arrived at the door, it slid open to reveal Napoleon sitting there seemingly lost in thought.

“Good morning, Napoleon.  You are in much earlier than I expected.  Is everything alright?”

Napoleon raised his eyes to look at his partner.  “I don’t know.  Communications contacted me at 4AM to let me know that Lozada and Ferraro missed their last check in.  There’s been no contact despite attempts to raise them.  I’ve been here since five.”

Illya took his seat.  “I am sorry, Napoleon.  What about April and Mark?”

“They’ve been very successful.  They discovered that THRUSH was buying weapons from international arms dealer Diego Montenegro.  They destroyed the cache of weapons and were able to capture both the satrap leader and Montenegro.  They’re awaiting the arrival of Interpol to take possession of their prisoners.  Once that happens, they will head into Mexico to complete Celia and Vinnie’s mission and hopefully, find out what happened to them.”  He leaned forward and rubbed his forehead with his left hand.

“Napoleon.”  When the American finally looked at his partner, Illya said, “Tell me what is bothering you besides the obvious.”

“Illya, what if Lozada is dead?  Or worse, what if she has been captured and tortured?  What if she’s been _raped?_ ”

Illya looked up at the ceiling as he leaned back in his chair.  “Not Ferraro.  Lozada.  Those things could happen to him also, but that does not overly concern you.  Why is that, Agent Solo?”  When Napoleon’s eyes shifted to gaze at the floor, Illya continued, “I think you are afraid that you will be the first CEA to lose a female agent in the line of duty.”

Napoleon leaned forward again and put his elbows on his desk, clasped his hands and lowered his chin to them.  “With Lozada working out of this office, I’m the _only_ CEA with female agents under me.”  He snorted at his unintended joke.  “And they’re both working on the same mission.  Maybe I should have assigned a different team.”

“ _Moy droog,_ listen to me.  You are Chief Enforcement Agent because you are capable and Mr. Waverly trusts your judgment.  All of Section II trusts your judgment.  We all know, as _you_ should, that you sent the four agents best suited for the job, just like you always do.  If you begin to second guess yourself, you might as well resign and become a regular field agent.”

“I also read Agent Lozada’s file.  She is as skillful an operative as is Agent Dancer.  We all know that every mission could be our last; but we do this for the greater good.  You cannot deny a fit – for – duty agent the right to do her duty; it would be demoralizing.”

Napoleon stood up, shot his cuffs and fastened his jacket.  “You’re right, _Tovarisch._ I’ll admit to you and no one else, that even though I know that April and Celia are as well – trained as we are, I worry about them more because they are women.  And even though I have sent agents on missions that have resulted in their demise and dealt with it, I’m not sure how I would cope if either one of them failed to return.  There, I’ve said it.”  He took a deep breath and let it go.  “I guess I’m not as liberated as I thought.  Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

Illya nodded and followed his partner through the door.  As they headed to the Commissary, he responded, “You are human and sometimes, it shows.  It is a changing world, Napoleon.  The good news for all of us is you are changing with it.  If you weren’t, you would have never sent two female agents on the same mission.”

Napoleon smiled and clapped his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder.  “When did you get so smart, my wise Russian?  I think I’ll keep you.”

_Two days later…_

Illya was in his lab watching the film of the explosion he and his project team had set off at The Local Proving Grounds earlier in the day.*  _Considering it’s disguised as small cufflinks and brooches, that is an impressive result.  I will recommend to Napoleon that we begin field testing it._ The ringing of the phone broke his concentration.  “Kuryakin.”

“It’s Napoleon.  I thought you would be interested in knowing that Dancer and Slate found out the Milagros drug cartel was the group dealing with the Texas satrap.  They called in the _federales_ who assisted in the assault on their stronghold and took possession of the drugs, weapons and three of the leaders of the gang.  Lozada and Ferraro were being held as hostages; they threatened to kill them if the authorities attempted to storm their hideout.  Lozada was able to jump one of men holding them and create a large enough diversion to allow them to get inside.  Unfortunately, Agent Ferraro was gravely wounded.  After getting first aid, he was evac’d by helicopter to UNCLE San Antonio.  April and Mark are on their way back; Celia is staying with Vinnie until he can travel.”

Illya listened as his friend, partner and senior agent reported to him what had transpired two thousand miles away. The relief in his voice was palpable.  “That is very good news, _moy droog._ I assume you will be staying until April and Mark arrive so you can debrief them.”

“You assume correctly, Partner, they should be here around nine.  Enough about that; I understand you and a couple of Section VIIIs took the chopper up to the Proving Grounds to run some tests.  How did that go”?

“It went well; in fact, I think field testing is in order.  I designed a brooch with the explosive in it for April and Celia to wear along with cufflinks for the men.”

“Excellent!  I’ll inform Mr. Waverly.  Are you leaving now?”

“I have done as much as I can for today.  I was going to buy food to take home, but I can stay for dinner with you if you like.”

“Good.  Commissary in fifteen minutes?”

“See you there.”

April and Mark arrived at Headquarters just after nine and reported directly to Napoleon.  As they walked into his office, he automatically assessed their physical appearance.  He noted a stitched up cut on April’s left forearm and a scrape on Mark’s face, but they both were moving without obvious pain and seemed none the worse for wear.  He motioned for them to sit on the couch.  “Welcome home.  You can give me your written report in a day or two, so just give me the basics now.”

Mark nudged April to go first.  “Well,” she began, “We completed our end of the mission.  Interpol agents arrived and took possession of Montenegro and the satrap leader, someone named Milosevic Proust, who was also wanted by Interpol as it turns out.”

“When we arrived in Nuevo Laredo,” Mark continued, “I thought we were going to have a hard time convincing the locals to help us as it was obvious that we were just Spanish – speaking _gringos_ and people were justifiably frightened of the cartels.  However, my resourceful partner here was able to convince a woman to tell us where to find the gang’s leaders.”  He put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze and she shrugged.

“I didn’t do anything extraordinary, Darling; I was able to connect with her as a woman.  One of her daughters was the girlfriend of a cartel member until he tired of her, got her addicted and then caused her to overdose.  A son of hers beat up the ex and the gang shot him down like a dog in the street.  When I told her that Mark and I were there to stop this gang and that her name would never come up, she told me where we could find them.”

“When we got there with the _federales,_ the _capitan_ used a bullhorn to tell them to come out.  That’s when Celia attacked one of their captors and diverted their attention long enough for us to get inside.”

Mark laughed, “They had knocked her out, but failed to tie her up because they didn’t feel she was really a threat to them.”

Napoleon felt he had heard enough.  “I know you’re both tired.  I’m glad you’re back; go home, get some rest, report back to HQ at noon.”

After they said their goodbyes, Napoleon watched them take their leave as he leaned back in his seat.  He reached into his inner jacket pocket and extracted his communicator.  “Open Channel K.  Illya?”

A few seconds later, the Russian’s voice came through.  “Yes, Napoleon.”

“I’m leaving the office.  Are you up for company?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”

The coded knock on his door let him know Napoleon had arrived.  He checked the peephole to confirm it was his partner and then disabled the security system and unlocked the door.  Opening it, he took the bottle of vodka from Napoleon’s hands and went to get glasses as his partner reset the system and relocked the door.  He handed Napoleon a filled glass when he walked into the small living room and sat next to Illya on “The Little Bear,” the nickname he had given the Russian’s secondhand, furry black couch.

They sat and drank in silence for a few minutes.  Illya hadn’t been in bed, but he was dressed in gray sweatpants and a T shirt.  If Napoleon never said a word, it would be fine with him.  He knew that sometimes, the only person you want around you is your partner.  _He will speak if he has something to say._

“ _Tovarisch,_ tell me about the premonition that caused you to treat me to dinner.”  At Illya’s slightly embarrassed gaze, he added, “Please.”

The blond looked at his glass.  “Alright.  I would not call it a ‘premonition.’  It was a… feeling that I should let you know that I care…about you.  I felt like you were about to, to…Is this really necessary, Napoleon?  I feel very foolish talking about this.”  When Napoleon didn’t respond, he sighed and resumed speaking.  “I felt you were about to enter a period of self – doubt, of being unsure.  I wanted to remind you that you are very good at what you do and your judgment is trusted.”

Napoleon nodded as he looked down at his hands.  He finished his drink and stood in preparation to leave.  “I realized something tonight, Partner Mine.  When I got another female agent, it made me wonder if I should worry about our success rate, like maybe having female agents is a liability.  But, female agents allow us to do so much more.  April was able to find out where the drug cartel was holding Lozada and Ferraro and by extension, their drugs and weapons because she could relate to another woman in a way that Mark just could not.  And Lozada was underestimated because she’s a woman in a predominantly man’s world.  That’s an advantage for her, for us.”

As Illya walked him to the door he asked, “You did not feel this way when April first arrived from Survival School?”

Napoleon stopped and looked down at his partner.  “This conversation _is_ just between us, yes?”

“ _Da,_ of course it is!”

Napoleon smirked.  “I always thought of April as one of the guys.  I mean, I _know_ she’s a girl, but she’s one of the guys.”  At Illya’s widened eyes he said quickly, “No, no I don’t mean I think she’s a lesbian!  I just mean I know she can take care of herself.  I have to get it through my head that _all_ Survival School graduates can do that.”

Illya patted him on the arm.  “I think you have made a good start, my friend.  See you at work tomorrow.”

“Thanks for listening.  Goodnight, _moy brat.”_

        

  

  

 

 


End file.
